


Come One, Come All

by plutosrose



Series: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020 [25]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Idiots in Love, M/M, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:34:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27985434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plutosrose/pseuds/plutosrose
Summary: Bucky's new trapeze partner is a jerk he once met in Vegas.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020 [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882291
Comments: 6
Kudos: 88
Collections: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020





	Come One, Come All

When Natasha started dating Clint, Bucky didn’t realize that this was the beginning of his world being turned completely upside down.

You see, Clint was one of the headliners of The Marvelous Showstoppers, with a death-defying archery act. He made a point of saying that it was actually ‘impalement art,’ which had led to Natasha making a dirty joke about ‘impalement art’, and Clint, who was usually full of more dirty jokes than was probably humanly possible, turning bright red in embarrassment.

The point is, they were fucking adorable together.

But the more time they spent together, the less time that Natasha spent on their trapeze act, until finally, one day, he was called into Fury’s office and told that he was going to be working with someone new.

“We just got a new artistic director, and she has some very bold visions. Wants to bring in some of her own people for a brand new show,” Fury leaned forward and folded his hands. “I believe you’re familiar with Steve Rogers, of the Flying Valkyries?”

“Are you serious?” Bucky grumbled, scrubbing a hand over his face. “The guy’s an asshole. I met him at an after-party in Vegas, and he literally crossed the room to tell me that the rigging on my lyra was unsafe.”

Fury raised an eyebrow. “Was it unsafe?”

“It’s not the point,” Bucky waved a hand. “The point is that we had never said two words to each other, and he felt entitled enough to tell me in front of a room full of people that I was going to fall ‘flat on my ass if I didn’t rig better.’” Was it petty to hold onto literally one interaction? Yes. Did Bucky care? No.

Fury let out a laugh. “You see, Peggy’s very familiar with your work. Asked for you by name for this new routine for her show. “You want a routine in the show? And just so I’m clear, a good routine. Unless you want to be stuck with Peter as your flyer. I mean, it’s your choice.”

Peter was the absolute worst flyer that Bucky had ever worked with since he’d up and joined the circus to begin with. He was either jumping before he was ready or not jumping at all. Working with Peter was usually the easiest way to get a permanent migraine and a stupid amount of bruises.

“You bastard.”

Fury shrugged, not bothering to hide the hint of amusement in his eyes. “Peggy will be at rehearsal next week, I’m sure that it will be a good opportunity for you to get acquainted. With both her and Steve.”

Bucky slammed the door on the way out.

-

That night, while he pretended that Clint and Natasha weren’t having extremely loud and athletic sex one room over, he searched The Flying Valkyries on YouTube.

The first video that came up–Steve Rogers and Sharon Carter–Lovers Trapeze Routine 2019--was of Steve and a blonde woman sitting together on a swinging trapeze, in an intimate embrace. Steve supported her weight--and both of their weight--as they moved through the routine, which according to the description was meant to ‘evoke the intimacy and bond of love.’

Bucky paused the video as the Steve on screen hung by his ankles and held out Sharon, her arms outstretched, and supported by nothing but Steve holding onto her.

“Pft,” Bucky scoffed. “That isn’t that great.”

-

Natasha was just finished practicing her Spanish web routine when Peggy entered the studio.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” she smiled--though when Steve stepped in after her, Bucky nearly dropped the rope that Natasha was holding onto.

Of course, Bucky had seen Steve before. He’d met him before. But the last time that he’d met him, he’d been too annoyed to properly look at him, and the videos he’d seen last night hadn’t exactly done him justice. And now, he just felt like a complete idiot, holding the rope Natasha had wrapped around herself loosely in his hands, staring unblinkingly at Steve.

Natasha twirled gracefully and landed right beside Bucky. “It’s no problem, I was just finished practicing.” She looked between Bucky and Steve and grinned wolfishly. “I’m sure you two will get along great.”

Bucky made a face. If Steve noticed, he didn’t say anything about it.

“I’m sure we will,” Steve smiled brightly.

  
“Oh yes, we will,” Bucky grumbled.

-

Peggy’s new show, as Bucky found out in that meeting with Steve and a later meeting with the entire company, was about human sexuality.

So yes, he was going to die.

-

At any one time, The Marvelous Showstoppers had two different shows running, not including showcases--and while he knew that Natasha and Clint were both in Peggy’s show (“She liked the whole impalement art metaphor,” Natasha had shrugged, which had made Clint turn beet red again), he hadn’t seen them for rehearsals in days.

No, instead, he was stuck with Steve.

Steve who said things like, “You’re putting too much weight on your right arm, you could hurt yourself.”

Or things like, “Are you sure we don’t need more safety mats?”

Or, “You need to point your toes a bit more to get the full effect.”

Each time, Bucky had gritted his teeth, and thought of being forced to work with Peter, which was definitely worse than a static trapeze routine on chains with the biggest asshole he’d ever met who worked for a circus.

“I’ve been working here for five years and doing aerials for longer,” Bucky’d eventually snapped, “I’m not going to fall on my face like some college student who’s just heard of silks.”

And of course, because Steve was a giant asshole, he hadn’t even seemed upset by this. No, he’d actually seemed amused, because that was the giant asshole thing to do. “Just care a lot about safety procedures, Buck, you know people can get seriously hurt doing what we do if they’re not careful.”

Which had prompted Bucky to make a face and mock him the second that his back was turned.

-  
The routine that he and Steve were rehearsing was meant to be about strength and sensuality or something, but honestly Bucky had lost the plot a little at some point, because it was getting increasingly difficult to both a) hate Steve and b) pretend that he was trying to will away an erection every time he put his hands on Steve’s chest or Steve held him upside down or balanced him on his shoulders.

He was a professional, and he’d worked with attractive men before (though some of them, like Brock, had turned out to be major douchebags which had helped with the attraction aspect but not the wanting-to-push-them-twenty-feet-to-the-ground aspect). But Steve was...infuriating. He was the worst. It felt like literally everything that he said was calculated as a way to get under his skin, and every time Bucky got frustrated with him, he’d simply smile a golden sunshine smile and pretend that he didn’t notice.

And oh yes, Bucky knew he was pretending. He could see it in that fucker’s eyes. He knew what he was doing, and he absolutely loved it.

And sure, sometimes he could tell his dick ‘hey, Steve is the worst,’ and he wouldn’t pop a stuffy when Steve essentially had his face in his crotch. ‘Steve will take any and all opportunities to be a total know-it-all douche,’ were magical, boner-killer words.

You know what wasn’t a magical boner-killer though?

The fact that one morning, Steve showed up with a chocolate croissant for him, because they had an ‘early start’.

The fact that one afternoon, when they met with Peggy to get notes on their progress, he made a point about the transition between the trapeze and the floor work being awkward, and Steve had backed him up, with no prompting whatsoever, and then had shot a little smile in his direction.

The fact that one night, Steve reached out and squeezed his shoulder right before he offered to give him a ride home. When Bucky declined (probably because he was in a state of complete shock at the gesture), he just smiled that same, stupid mid-August smile and said, “Okay, see you tomorrow, then.”

Whether Bucky had furiously jerked off the moment that he’d gotten back home was nobody’s business but his own.

-

The way things were going, something had to give.

  
Bucky just didn’t expect that thing to be Steve’s dick.

-

Here’s what happened–

The transition between when the chains touched back down to the floor work was still rocky at best. Steve let go first, then he let go, perching himself on Steve’s shoulders, then, he would go over Steve’s shoulders, holding onto Steve by his waist.

Then Steve would lean back and the two of them would be supported by nothing but Steve’s legs, planted on the floor.

That was how it usually went, at least.

Instead, right in the transition between going over Steve’s shoulders and putting his hands on his waist, he noticed something very interesting.

Steve was hard.

-

They didn’t talk about it, because as Clint had once pointed out, he never did anything straightforward and rational when it came to men he found attractive, and if you had Clint of all people acting as the fucking voice of reason, then you were pretty much hopeless. So yeah, Bucky knew he was pretty much hopeless.

He decided that the most polite thing to do would be to chalk it up to endorphins and adrenaline from the routine--and hey, who hadn’t gotten one or two embarrassing boners hanging off of a trapeze before?

-

That was, until the night before the new show was due to open. The large studio where they normally practiced had been set up as a banquet hall, complete with five different stations of food and enough wine to get all of them drunk five times over. Bucky wasn’t sure where the money to have their pre- and post-show parties came from--Fury definitely had his secrets--but he wasn’t complaining, even if it was always hard for him to enjoy the food before the show started its run.

He was picking at some sage ravioli, half-listening to an argument that Natasha and Clint were having on arrow velocity, when Steve seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, tugging him out of his chair.

  
Natasha definitely noticed, because she was grinning at him as he followed dumbly, as though Steve was pulling him by an invisible string.

They only stopped when they reached one of the supply closets that was usually used to store costumes. He had one errant thought--that he didn’t want to end up on top of anything Clint had been wearing recently--before Steve closed the distance between the two of them and pressed his mouth, firmly, and insistently, against his own.

“Mph,” Bucky murmured, gripping Steve’s shirt to haul himself impossibly closer.

When they parted, Steve was grinning devilishly. “Was wondering if you would come if I pulled you in here.”

“Jesus Christ, shut up,” Bucky managed, before his lips were back on Steve’s.

Steve had rucked up his shirt, and was running his fingertips along his abdomen, a ghost of a touch that made Bucky whimper into his mouth.

“I’ve been thinking,” Steve grinned against his lips. “About how worked up you get during practice.”

A blush crept up Bucky’s neck, and he was thankful that it was at least dark enough that the only thing that he could really make out completely was the blindingly bright white costume Natasha wore for her Spanish web routine. The fact that Steve had been thinking about him, and more specifically his dick, made him feel like he was about to burst into flames.

And there was Steve’s thigh, pressing up against where his cock was hard in his jeans. The friction was teetering between not enough and just enough, but it was plenty to make Bucky gasp into Steve’s mouth, and forget that he’d seen Steve hard too during practice and find a way to hold it over him. Instead, he rode the twist of arousal as it brought him higher and higher, his nerves on fire and taunting him with the possibility of release.

He clung hard to Steve, having given up on kissing him completely, instead burying his face in the crook of his neck, and gasping, gasping, gasping, until his throat felt raw and he came in his pants like he was a goddamn teenager necking with the star football player under the bleachers again (an incident that Natasha had quickly, somehow, found out about, and never let him live down).

When Steve pulled away, he didn’t even have the decency to be a smirky asshole about the proceedings. He had expected at least one or two stupid jokes about the come that was currently drying in his briefs. No, instead, he kissed his brow like they were some old, stupidly in love married couple, and Bucky sagged against a rack of costumes, absently touching an array of satin and tulle that he was now hoping wasn’t one of Natasha’s.

“So I guess that answer’s that question,” Steve tutted to himself. Bucky narrowed his eyes.

“What question?”

“Whether or not you think I’m an asshole.”

Steve’s tone was so smirky, even in the dark, that Bucky narrowed his eyes at him. “Fuck off,” he grumbled, which just made Steve laugh, and swoop in for another kiss.

“We should go out after the show sometime.”

“Never.”

“This Thursday maybe, after the nine o’clock show?”

Bucky grumbled and let out a breath.

“Fine. But I won’t show.”

The worst part was, he was lying, and Steve knew it.

Steve knew it.

**Author's Note:**

> Circus Routine Inspo for Steve and Bucky: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_E4CZ8pjDyQ
> 
> Spanish web routine: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j76WyEtOoMI
> 
> a lyra: https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/41tgFth%2B-NL._AC_SX425_.jpg


End file.
